


A Sweet Fury

by Linay1



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linay1/pseuds/Linay1
Summary: The first time is a surprise to them bothThey are two broken people; one fuelled by rage, and the other by purpose. Eventually, they crash together again, and again. Each time is a battle; each time draws them closer. (An excuse for them to do it that kind of turned into a sexy-times character study. Whatever. Rated Explicit for sexual content.)Chapter 1: CassianHe’s nothing but methodical, but with Jyn all sense flies out the window - this is the story of their four firstsChapter 2: JynShe’s nothing but fiery rage and passion, but she brings out the best in Cassian. And the worst.





	1. Cassian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivyspinners](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyspinners/gifts).



> I can't help it, I'm sorry. I wrote this for myself but now I'm shyly sharing this. 
> 
> Also, it's 3 AM so forgive any errors.

 

**Chapter 1: Cassian**

 

The first time is a surprise to them both.

It happens shortly after Cassian has resumed his duties as an Intelligence officer. He is not cleared for field work, so he throws himself into briefings and strategy meetings. He is staring at star maps when General Draven unwittingly drops a bomb into his skull.

“That Jyn Erso turned out to be useful after all,” he says absently.

Cassian’s attention snaps to the General so quickly and with such instant ferocity that everyone in the meeting room takes an involuntary step back. 

“The intel she got on the Tarilla mission will help us plan our next move.”

“Which mission?”

Something in Cassian’s tone must alert Draven that something is wrong because the General turns to regard his most devoted officer with a raised eyebrow.

“The one she just got back from.”

Cassian is storming to her quarters before he can stop himself, bypassing the lock codes on her door (he is a spy, after all) and barging in without permission. She looks up, her fingers going tight around the towel she has wrapped around herself. Her hair is still dripping wet. Cassian’s eyes dip. A large purple bruise is spreading up her bicep like a blooming flower.

In two long strides he has her backing up against the far wall. Her eyes are bright with surprise. His hands hover just millimetres over the bare skin of her shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me you had a mission.”

His flat tone is incongruous with his blazing expression.

“I didn’t realise I had to.” Waspish, as usual.

“You don’t _have to_.” Cassian grits his teeth and takes a deep breath.“But why _didn’t_ you?”

Her gaze slides away. A flush is creeping up her chest, and he realises that she left without a word to avoid a fight. She would have announced her assignment, he would have protested, and it would have devolved into a shouting (perhaps a punching) match - quite possibly in a public place. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve clashed violently and in full sight of the whole Rebellion. She is not known for restraint, and he is not known to compromise.   

Now, he wants to shake her. He wants to know how she could leave him behind without so much as a goodbye. He wants to shackle her to his bed so that she can’t ever face a blaster again. He wants to shuttle her to an outer rim planet so she will be as far away from the war as possible. He knows she’ll never let that happen.

So what he does instead is to grab her by the hips and pull her into himself, as if he could shield her with an embrace. Because he knows that she will never, ever stop fighting until the job is done. 

“You could have been _killed_ ,” he says, even though they face death every day as rebels - even though they have faced death together.

To his surprise, her arms go around his neck. He presses his nose to her neck and _breathes._ He hears her whisper _sorry, I’m sorry_ against his collarbone. She’s so close, almost part of his skin. But it’s not enough. He’s not sure it will ever be enough. 

So, before he can think about it too hard, he’s jerking away her towel and letting it flutter to the floor behind him. He hears her squeak of surprise just before he takes her face in his hands and kisses her. It’s not really a surprise when she kisses back; they’ve been tiptoeing around their mutual attraction for weeks. She sucks his lip through her teeth as her fingers slide under his bomber jacket. His fingers find her bare flesh, and she jumps a little at the contact. 

Their joy, their pleasure has always been measured with a sharp edge of pain, of loss.

It takes him less than a heartbeat to peel his belt open and fumble apart his trousers. 

And then he has her pinned against the wall. He catches her knees and draws her legs around his waist as he lifts her. He is inside her before either of them can think too hard about what’s going on. And then there is nothing _but_ feeling, an overload of sensation and emotion for them both. She is panting onto his Adam’s apple, and her hands are fisting in the sleeves of his bomber jacket. He realises that she is naked, and he is still fully clothed. He wants to feel more, so much more. 

So he backs away suddenly, disentangling himself from her lithe thighs. She makes an angry sound of protest until she notices that he is jerking off his jacket, then his shirt. He bends to yank off his boots and shuck his trousers. And then he is _on_ her, calloused hands roving from her face to her neck to her breasts while his lips and teeth find her skin. And then he is _in_ her, and she sighs in pleasure. He thrusts desperately, his teeth grit. 

 Their love-making is rough, almost angry. He wants more than a sigh; he wants to make her _scream_. Her fingernails are raking red lines across his back, and the thin slivers of pain are nothing - _nothing_ \- compared to the tension building low in his gut. Her low moans turn to keening wails as their bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm of pent up rage; the terror of losing each other, the fury of frustrated expectations, and the beginnings of a fragile love. They lose themselves in each other.

The first time, they don’t even make it to the bed.

 

The second time is like something out of his adolescent daydreams. She is on her knees in front of him as he leans back in the pilot’s seat of their stolen Imperial shuttle. They’re on their way back to base after one of their many missions together. Cassian suspects Draven assigns them as a pair simply because he’s tired of hearing them shout each other down when they are assigned to separate missions. It helps that they are a very effective team.

He can’t think on it any more; his thoughts are impossible to gather as it is.

Her lips are almost unbearably tight around him. He groans, hands tight on the chair’s arms. The wet friction is like liquid fire. He feels the surge that signals the beginning of the end for him, and he doesn’t want it to end - not alone, not without her, never without her. 

So he pulls her up, and she straddles him. She grinds against him, clad only in a standard issue undershirt and briefs. He grins into her kiss; only Jyn could make a threadbare rebellion hand-me-down look so sexy. His hands travel up her thighs, and she gasps as he slips his fingers under the hem of her underwear. And when he slides his index finger into her while circling her clit with the rough pad of his thumb, she comes undone. Her back arches and she throws her head back with a loud moan. Her hips gyrate over the deft strokes of his fingers, and he anchors her to him with his other arm. When she slips onto his chest, boneless and panting, he pulls her underwear over her legs. Then he’s coaxing her up with his hands, his lips whispering at her ear. She braces herself on his shoulders as she rides him desperately. When she begins to quiver with release, he helps by bucking violently. He comes with a shout just after she does, his entire body shaking within her arms. 

They don’t let go of each other right away, still basking in sweat and breathless puffs of air. When she finally lets him slide out of her, it’s to turn in his arms and sit across his knees with her arms still looped lazily around his neck. She leans against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. He strokes her arm in wonder as they drift into a sated sleep, watched by the stars around them.

 

The third time, he pulls her into a supply tent in the hangar and dares her to make a sound. 

He’s been scouring the base for her for nearly half an hour after a particularly frustrating Intelligence meeting when he finally spots her in the hangar. But she’s not alone. 

A small gaggle of puppy-eyed pilots are watching her as she bends, wrench in hand, to take a look at the wheels on an X-wing fighter. Jyn is laughing; he can hear her across the wide space between them. The baby pilots seem captivated by her, though she seems twice their age and half their size. 

Cassian’s long strides are clipped as he approaches them. The junior officers notice him before she does, and they snap to attention. Jyn, still technically his subordinate, doesn’t bother to rise even when he clears his throat. 

“Working hard, Sergeant?” He asks blandly.

Something in his stony expression must _terrify_ the pilots because they straighten even further, eyes wide. Jyn, on the other hand, stands slowly and turns with a cocked brow that dares him to dress her down. He blinks at her glare and dismisses the pilots with a casual wave of his hand. They bolt away, throwing apologetic glances in Jyn’s direction. He doesn’t watch them go. 

Jyn has the audacity to grin up at him.

“Something the matter, _Captain_?” 

“With me, _Sergeant_ ,” Cassian says as he turns to march away, resisting the urge to grab her by the elbow.

He hears her fall into step beside him as they cross the hangar. His eyes slip to the side as he glares at the top of her head. They’ve nearly reached the exit when he finally finishes parsing the emotions thrashing in his gut. He is annoyed by the _little boys_ who lavish her with their adoring gazes. They’ve certainly not earned the right to hear her laugh so carelessly when it’s taken him so long to pry open the shell of her heart. He doesn’t want to miss even a second of her smile. And if he’s completely honest, he’s even a touch jealous, though he knows he’s not got a monopoly on her happiness.  

So, before he can think better of it, he abruptly pulls her into a dark tent filled with rows of crates. He steers her around the corner of a crate and plants a hand on either side of her head. 

“Having fun, Jyn?” A sharp smile.

Her answer is an amused smirk and a hand on his cheek.

“Are you seriously jealous?” 

She is ruthless, his Jyn. Smug, he thinks, and too close to the truth. She is still smiling when he pushes her into the crate and begins to shower her with kisses.

“C’mon,” she breathes, “Really? Right now?”

“Why not?” Cassian replies, “Afraid?”

She laughs, a dry chuckle that ends in a hiccup as he cups her backside.

“Never.”

His eyes are fierce, but his touch is achingly gentle. He feathers kisses down the ridge of her jaw, his fingers trailing lightly over the column of her throat. He slides his hands down her arms, skims her waist before lifting her shirt and unlatching her bra. He massages a breast with one hand while the other wanders lower, deeper. His kisses grow demanding, and she rises up to her toes to meet him. He gives one of her nipples a sharp tug and is rewarded by a sharp intake of breath. It feels like a small victory.

Her head snaps away as the heavy, booted footfalls of a squad march past. He slips his hand down her pants.

“Do you think they’ll hear you?” He taunts as she gasps his name.

“You wouldn’t-”

But he does. 

Cassian spins her so she is pressed to the rough wood, his hands making quick work of her combat pants. With a finger, he traces the wet line of her slit. His other hand kneads her breasts in turn. The tent is silent but for their heavy breathing and the metal click as he undoes his belt. He drags his hardness over her bottom, and hears her breath catch in her throat. He leans forward, his lips in her hair.

“I wonder if you’ll be noisy.”

And then he pushes his way into her in a single, fluid thrust. Her back arches as he begins to rock back and forth. Her breathing grows harsh and uneven as he sets a hard rhythm, his blunt nails biting into her thighs. When she lets out a tiny cry and mewls his name, he is undone. He bends over her and comes with a throaty grunt. 

Afterward, they dress quickly, laughing. It is the closest to happiness that he has ever been. Then, she smiles and kisses the corner of his mouth, her eyes warm. 

His heart stutters with joy. 

 

 

The fourth time starts slow as he covers her body with kisses. They begin with her lying on her stomach on his bed. He is on top, smoothing his hands over her body inch by inch. He nips her shoulder and traces her spine with his lips. When he flips her onto her back, he relishes her wetness on his beard, and the arch of her back as he runs his calloused hands down the back of her thighs. 

Then her fingernails are digging into his shoulder blades as he enters her. He drags himself out, slowly, and pauses to kiss her deeply. They are still locked in an embrace when he fills her again, and again, and again. He tangles his fingers in her hair. She pushes him back, hands on his tightening abdomen, so she can watch him move over her. He watches face, momentarily distracted by the way her breasts sway as he thrusts harder, faster. 

They reach completion together and collapse side by side. She turns to throw an arm over his slick skin and he draws her close. They have memorised the map of scars on their bodies and drift into a sated, dreamless sleep. 

After that, he stops counting. 

 


	2. Jyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s nothing but fiery rage and passion, but she brings out the best in Cassian. And the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is longer. It's a few sex scenes that turned into a character study. Sorry, sort of.

**Chapter 2: Jyn**

 

The first time is a surprise to them both - but it is especially surprising to Jyn. 

She’s always known they would be together - as allies, as friends. But she hoped deep in the secret recesses of her heart that they would end up as more. But after being released from med-bay, Cassian skirted the edges of her activities; always there in the shadow, but never directly interacting with her even though their eyes would meet from across briefing rooms, hangars, hallways. When they do speak, it’s usually to argue - she is usually yelling profanities and gesturing wildly while he stands back with his arms crossed, his rebuttals delivered in a smooth, completely rational voice. So, naturally, she thought that it she would be the one to initiate a proper romance, if they ever capitulated. She’s the one who is full of rage, bursting at the seams with emotion. He’s always been the calm, calculating one, his edges carefully smoothed under a perfect veneer of self-control.

But that’s gone now, she thinks as he pins her against the wall of her room. There's nothing restrained about the way he's driving into her, and it's all she can do to grab onto his shoulders and hold on. Her mouth is open on his neck and she can feel the vibration of his throaty growl as he thrusts. 

Her fingers scrabble for purchase in the leather of his battered jacket, and the rough fabric of his fatigues scratches at her inner thighs as his hips crash into hers. She wonders if she's strange for thinking it's incredibly hot. She almost wants to kill him when he pulls away, even if it's to shed his clothing. But when he hooks her thighs over his bare hips, and she feels the velvet of his skin on hers, it's worth it. 

Their first time is amazing. It’s everything she day-dreamed about. Jyn thinks she might finally be able to quell the storm inside her.

She’s wrong, of course. 

 

 

 

Jyn is stalking through the cold, cold corridors of Hoth, arms swinging wildly and face set in a scowl. Cassian walks alongside her, and his loping, easy grace makes her even more furious. She is practically jogging, and he only has to slightly lengthen his stride to keep up. 

Draven had finally entrusted her with a solo mission - and she was proud, proud enough to flash Cassian a triumphant look across the briefing room - only to see his brow crease.

“She’s not ready, sir,” Cassian said.

Jyn felt herself deflate, her excitement replaced by rage. She can’t even remember what she said to start the shouting match that ensued, but it had been bad, _very bad._ So bad that Cassian - who is known for being stoic when facing anything, including death - started shouting back. Their fight had erupted in the middle of the small briefing room, in front of General Draven and at least three other commanding officers. They traded arguments interspersed with random insults, each getting louder and gesturing more wildly until a sharply barked command from Draven rendered them silent and simmering in anger. The General sighed and scolded them like naughty children before telling them, in no uncertain terms, that Jyn was leaving the next morning and that is _that_.

So, despite winning the battle, Jyn is storming back to her quarters while Cassian is calmly accompanying her.

“Don’t you have somewhere important to be, _Captain_?” She spits at him.

He shrugs, and remains silent. They reach her room, and Jyn angrily punches in the code. She considers shutting the door behind her, but he knows the code too, so it would just look childish and petty. 

So, of course, she spins on her heel as soon as she is in the room and slams her palm on the button to close the door. It whooshes shut between them, and she swears she can hear him sigh behind the closed door before he opens it again. He steps into her small room, lets the door slide shut and then turns to set the lock. 

Jyn is in his face as soon as he turns back around.

“How could you?” She snarls, lifting onto her toes to get closer.

“What?” His frustration finally breaks free of his impassive mask. “Try to protect you? Try to keep you safe?”

“Nothing about our life is _safe_ ,” she exclaims. “When have we ever been _safe_?”

“You’re safer when I’m there to watch your back,” Cassian hisses, leaning down to match her fierce expression with one of his own.

“Is that what this is about?” Jyn demands, finger jabbing his chest. “You want to come with me? You don’t trust me to go alone?”

“It’s not that. It’s…” he starts, stops. Closes his eyes. “What if…”

Jyn watches the anger drain out of him, watches him drop his balled fists. He slips away from her, trudges to her narrow bunk and sits down on the edge. He leans forward, balances his forearms on his knees and runs his fingers through his dark hair. Jyn frowns at him. She is still raging inside, but he looks so defeated that she doesn’t feel right blasting him. 

“Cassian?” Her voice is still edged in anger, but it’s more tentative now.

He exhales, staring at his boots. 

“Jyn,” he begins again, voice quiet, “What if something happens to you when you’re gone?” His gaze goes unfocussed, as if he imagining the million ways she could die on this mission. “What if something happens, and I don’t even know about it until it’s too late? What if you come back, and I’m already gone, and something happens to _me_ , and we never see…And it’s over, just like that?”

Jyn walks over to him, drops to her knees and peers up into his downcast face. It’s a beautiful face, she thinks distantly. Angular and sharply defined. He would look younger if not for the constant furrow between his brows and the tension in his jaw and in the corners of his eyes. He won’t look at her. 

Jyn draws her calloused fingers over his jaw, cups his cheeks with both hands and forces herself into the centre of his attention. 

“You can’t come with me to Coruscant,” she tells him mercilessly. “I can blend in. I have lived there. I have the right accent. You just can’t.”

He’s preparing to argue; she can see it in the working of his jaw. 

“No, Cassian,” she says, “You know you can’t. If I were _anyone_ else, you’d admit it too.” 

She winds her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and eases her way between his knees. 

“Please, Cassian,” she murmurs against his mouth. “I need to do this. I need to help.”

“And I need to know you’ll come back,” He confesses, the words barely there.

“I can’t promise that,” Jyn says, feathering a kiss just under his chin. “You know I can’t. But I swear, I’ll do my best.”

“Jyn,” he murmurs, “It’s not enough.”

“Trust me,” she breathes against his ear. “Please trust me. It’s worth it. It’ll be worth it. It has to be.”

 She squeezes in closer between his legs, turns his face to hers and presses her forehead to his. 

“Come back to me,” he tells her, as if either of them can change fate. 

“Always,” she says and kisses him. 

His fingers tangle in her hair, and she presses her tongue past his teeth before withdrawing and layering kisses over his eyes, his cheeks, his neck. She tugs on his earlobe with her teeth and feels him harden against her stomach. Gasping, Cassian tugs insistently at her clothes. Between desperate kisses, they manage to undress each other. She climbs onto him and eases onto his shaft, sighing in relief when he is fully inside her. His lips find the tips of her breasts, and he suckles as she rocks over him. Their love-making is achingly slow, heartbreakingly tender. When he can stand the pace no longer, he flips her onto the bed, hooks her knee over his shoulder and drives himself home again and again. Their eyes lock, and they refuse to look away, even as their expressions contort when they reach completion together. She nestles into his chest, and he pulls the covers over them both. They huddle together in a tangle of sweat slick limbs until it’s time for her to leave. They don’t speak another word. 

But he’s waiting for her when she returns. 

 

 

 

 

A few days after she receives her promotion to sergeant major, Cassian returns after a mini-mission and catches up with her while she is standing in line with her dinner tray at the mess. Jyn feels his hand at the small of her back. She flinches and shrugs his hand away ever so subtly. 

“I have a briefing in a few minutes Captain Andor,” She says, not turning to address him, “I’ll see you later.” 

There is a long silence, and she risks a glance over her shoulder. Cassian’s lips are thin, turned down at the corners. His eyes have gone blank, his expression shuttered in the same way as when she first saw him, when she was still just a means to an end. It hurts more than she thinks it should.

“Fine,” he says curtly.

She watches him turn smartly on his heel and march away briskly. Her teeth clench, but she just looks back to her tray, her bowl of mush, and her cup of lukewarm caf. 

A hour later, she’s staggering back to her room after an much-needed punching session with a sandbag. Her knuckles are raw, her arms are aching, but she feels better than she did after watching Cassian walk away - after forcing him away. She’s so tired that she almost doesn’t notice the trio of flight captains blocking her path.

“S’cuse me,” she mutters as she attempts to pass.

“Sergeant Major?” The voice seems friendly enough, but Jyn knows better. 

She pauses mid-step and turns. Her eyes are suddenly sharp.

“Yes, sir?” She asks in a cutting tone.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Sergeant Major Erso,” Captain Dallar Vanir drawls with a smile that’s all teeth. 

“Thank you, sir,” she replies without smiling back. “Will there be anything else?”

His companions leer, all but snickering at her. She stiffens further, suddenly aware of her diminutive stature, her tired limbs. Maybe she shouldn’t have trained so hard. They’re still staring at her, and all pretence of amicability has faded into sneers. She knows what’s coming; she’s had this _conversation_ many times since news of her promotion got out. And she’s tired of it. So kriffing tired of it all. 

“If that’s all, sirs?” She snaps, lifting her chin.

“No, that’s not all, Sergeant Major Erso - Jyn, is it?”

“It’s Sergeant Major Erso,” she grits out, almost growling now. 

Captain Vanir takes a step closer. He’s in her space now, but she refuses to flinch. She settles for curling her fingers into tight fists. And glaring. 

“How did an Imp like you manage to get promoted anyway?” He asks, falsely contemplative as he takes several paces around her. He turns to his fellow pilots, “Kashik? Syggy? Any ideas?”

“She’s sleeping with Captain Andor,” Kashik offers with a smirk. 

Vanir laughs, and it’s an ugly, unkind sound.

“Andor? That stuck up prick in Intelligence?” He snorts.

“Shut up,” Jyn snaps suddenly, “You don't know anything about him. He's better than you, better than any of you.”

“Is he?” Vanir smiles at her, and she feels instantly dirty. “How about we find out? I'm a captain too, you know. Why don’t you screw me, and maybe you'll get another promotion.”

Jyn wills away the red haze of rage filling her vision. She imagines her anger as a fog, and she draws it in, tamps it down, and knots it deep in her belly. When she speaks, her voice is clear, cold, and ruthless.

“I don’t think you’ve quite got the equipment to make it worth my time,” she says, lifting an eyebrow. “But thanks for the offer, _Captain_.” 

His face goes red, and he winds up as if to punch her - and oh, she wants him to start a fight. But he stops, and tries to smile condescendingly.

“You’re not that nice to look at anyway,” he spits as he brushes past her, knocking her shoulder as he does.

His friends follow, hissing obscenities as they do. 

Jyn watches them go, and then sags, shaking her head. She turns - then immediately startles. Cassian is shrouded in the shadows, watching. Has he been been there the whole time, tailing her? Her brows shoot up. She opens her mouth, but words won’t come. What can she say that won’t make it worse? He pushes off from the wall and strides forward. She thinks he will stop and glare at her, and maybe tell her off. 

But he just breezes past, heading in the direction that the pilots have gone. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t say a word, and he doesn't come to her room that night. 

The next morning, she wakes to see Draven at her door. Baffled, she follows him to the underbelly of the base. He’s grumbling to himself the whole way, and she catches the odd phrase.

“…Never been in a fight with his peers before you came along…Sent that stupid Vanir to med-bay… Karking idiots. Goddammit,” Draven mutters in obvious exasperation. 

He goes with her to collect Cassian from the brig, and he’s still grumbling as he escorts them out with a stern reprimand and a shake of his head. Jyn stares at Cassian, whose face is rough with two days of stubble. A few thin scrapes run the length of his cheek. She shrugs, and they walk to his room together in silence. He is still angry with her; she recognises it in the sharp swing of his arms and clipped sound of his boots on the floor. He doesn’t look down at her, doesn’t even give her a sideways glance. But when they stop outside his door, he keys in his code and then waits, staring at some point past her shoulder until she steps into his room. He follows her, and she hears him lock the door behind him. Once again, Cassian strides past her and sits in the only chair in the room, his elbow resting on his desk. 

“How long, Jyn?” He asks, finally fixing his eyes on her face.

She shrugs and glances away.

“Come here,” he says, voice rich and dark. 

“Is that an order, Captain Andor?” Jyn sneers.

“Yes,” he replies flatly. “It is.”

Eyes narrowed, Jyn approaches slowly, stopping when she is standing inches from his knees. Cassian drags his gaze from her feet up to her face.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” He asks. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific” Jyn says.

“Vanir, and the others,” Cassian says in clipped words, “They’re not the first ones to use our relationship against you. How many and how long, Jyn?”

“Why do you want to know, Cassian? You can’t go beating up every one who questions my honour,” Jyn says angrily. “How long are those idiots going to be in med-bay anyway?”

Cassian stares at her for a full moment before answering.

“Long enough that they’ll never even think about coming near you again.”

“Kriffing hell, Cassian,” Jyn snaps, “Do you I look like a karking damsel in distress to you? I can handle these nerf-herding flyboys on my own, thank you very much.”

Cassian nods but doesn’t look any less coldly furious with her. 

 “Even so, why didn’t you tell me, Jyn?” He asks sharply. “Why didn’t you even try? You were practically _running_ from me.”

Jyn folds her arms over her chest and looks away. Her stomach clenches, and she feels that constant ball of rage twisting her gut. 

“They were saying _you_ got me promoted because I was…sleeping with you. That you were done as an effective officer because of me,” she admits in a voice barely above a whisper. 

She still can’t look at him. 

“So, I’m the damsel in distress? Is that it?” He barks a short laugh. “You thought you had to preserve my reputation by making people think we’re not actually together?”

“You were the perfect officer, the pride of the Alliance,” she protests weakly. “And then I came along and corrupted you. I don’t think I’m worth that.”

 “So to protect my _image_ ,” Cassian says icily, “You _abandoned_ me?”

The words are cruel, and they strike a dissonant chord within her. He’s not chosen the phrasing by accident because, frankly, Cassian never does anything that’s not expressly intentional. She bites her lip, and her eyes start to burn. She’s always known that he was capable of cruelty for the cause, but Cassian hasn’t used words as a weapon on her - until now. 

“Jyn, look at me.”

She lifts her eyes. His face is a mask of cold steel, but his eyes are blazing. 

“You were promoted because you deserved it,” he says, biting out every word, “And I am with you because I _want_ to be. And you let those skrogging idiots come between us because you - what? Because you thought I’d give up on us for _my reputation_?”

Jyn shifts from foot to foot, then uncrosses and re-crosses her arms. She looks away and then back, only to see that Cassian is waiting for an actual answer, eyes trained on her face.

“I don’t know,” she chokes out, defensive and apologetic all at the same time. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Cassian reaches up, touches two fingers to her chin.

“You are worth it, Jyn,” he says intently, “So don’t you kriffing dare think otherwise.”

She nods once, brusquely. Cassian leans back and looks away. He doesn’t seem angry at her anymore, Jyn notes, but he’s still wound tight. She can see the rage vibrating just under his skin; it’s in the stiffness in his neck, the clenching of his fists, and the way his eyes flash as he looks to the side. She thinks, maybe she should just go. She’ll come back later. But the slide of her boot on the floor catches his attention, and his eyes snap back to her. His glare has sharpened into something fierce, almost primal. 

“Take off your clothes,” he tells her.

And for once she doesn't argue, partly because she wants to do it anyway, and partly because his eyes are still darkly intense. She peels off her layers one at a time, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. She watches him watching her; his expression is impassive, but his eyes are knifelike in intensity, catching her every movement. He lets her stand naked there for a full minute, his keen gaze tracing her every curve. When he finally does tug her closer, it’s only to guide her into planting her knee on the chair so that she’s standing over his thighs. He drags his hands down her arms and sets her hands on his shoulders. 

“Don’t move,” he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from the skin just below her breast. 

Jyn shivers under his touch as he takes time to savour her skin under his hands. And Cassian is nothing, if not methodical. His hands slide through her hair, run down her neck, sweep down the curve of her spine. She gasps when the callouses on his fingers catch on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. 

He leans back a moment, catches her eye with a faint smirk. He drags the pad of his thumb over his tongue and then presses it to her clit. She throws her head back as he begins to rotate his thumb over her. And then he pushes one finger into her depths. She shudders and presses her forehead to his shoulder. Another finger, crooking _just so_ , and she whimpers at his ear. She slides her hand between them, hooking her fingers on his belt. He knocks her arm away, pushes it back over her shoulder. 

“Not yet,” he grunts, his fingers tantalising her. 

His thumb slides between her folds, slick and urgent, and her cries become plaintive as he has her undulating above him. Her nipples catch on his clothing, and it burns. She's close but not close enough. 

“Please,” she begs, “Please, Cassian.”

“Shut up,” he growls hoarsely as his long fingers cup the nape of her neck and tangle in her hair.

His teeth are scraping her shoulder, his fingers are deep within her, and she can’t breath for the pressure spiking up her belly and down her thighs. She feels him anchor her to himself with an arm around her waist as she stiffens and cries out. She collapses bonelessly onto him, an undignified heap of trembling arms and legs.

“We’re not done yet,” he tells her, still an angry murmur at her ear. 

She sits up on his lap, her hands sliding under his shirt as she laves the underside of his chin with her tongue. Her hands rove over his lean chest and abdomen, feeling his muscles clench and unclench under his skin. She helps him push off his jacket and pull off his shirt, and then she slides away to crouch in front of him, her fingers working at loosening the laces of his combat boots. He toes them off and then tugs his fatigues down, kicking them off hurriedly. Jyn has him in her mouth a second later, and he groans as she swirls her tongue around him. She doesn’t protest when he hauls her up and spins her. He pulls her down so that she is straddling his thighs, her back to his chest. He curls the fingers of one hand around her neck, dragging her back for a kiss as his other hand holds his shaft upright so that she can sink down onto him. And then she leans forward to brace her hands on his knees as they buck wildly against each other. Just before she thinks she’s about to lose it, Cassian stands up and turns, bending her over his chair. He presses her face to the metal seat and leans over her, kissing a line down her spine. Then his fingers are digging into her hips as he pounds into her. She drops a hand between her thighs, but he bats her away and fits his own fingers between her folds, drawing tiny circles while he fills her from behind. They reach a fever pitch, and she is crying curses as he is groaning praise. She shudders in release as he empties himself into her. 

“Jyn,” he says hoarsely, bowing over her. “I’m with you. Always.”

The next morning, Cassian tugs his battered jacket over her shoulders, and they head to the mess hall together. 

It doesn’t surprise anyone that Jyn gets into a few more fights before the whispers finally quiet down. What is surprising is that the normally aloof, elusive Captain Andor usually throws the first punch. 

 

 

 

No one whispers about them when Cassian is inevitably promoted from captain to major. He’s almost above reproach, and it’s obvious he deserves it. Jyn wishes she could be happier for him, but the promotion just means that they go out on fewer missions together, and that he spends more time in endless meetings. At least they’ve finally opted to share a room instead of alternating between his room and hers. When they asked for permission, Draven had almost rolled his eyes at them as if he’d been wondering why it had taken so long for them to take that step.  

Jyn appreciates their room; not because it’s larger or nicer or more comfortable. It’s really none of those things. No, she likes their room because it smells like him. When she’s alone, she sees his few personal touches, wraps herself in their sheets, and inhales the musk of leather and oil that she’s come to associate with Cassian. And when she has to fall asleep alone while he’s out hashing out plans with other senior officers, she can almost pretend he’s there with her, warm and burrowed under heavy blankets. 

This is not one of those nights.

Jyn is restless, itchy for his touch, and her skin feels like it’s on fire. She tosses and turns on their thin mattress. Finally, she throws off the sheets and lies on top of the covers. She closes her eyes and inhales the lingering scent of him, and the apex of her thighs grows damp. She’s only wearing a light tank top and thin panties. Closing her eyes, she lets her fingers drift to the hem of her underwear, pulls the scanty cloth down to one ankle. She imagines Cassian crawling over her, caging her between his long limbs. She exhales and dips her fingers into herself. Her breathing hitches as she feels his phantom hands on her body, and her legs twist together as she touches herself. It’s not enough, not nearly enough - but it gives her a modicum of relief. She can feel herself skating the edge of an orgasm when the door slides open and light spills into the room. Her eyes snap open, focusing on the tall silhouette in the doorway. 

Cassian walks into the room, his tired eyes suddenly alight with hunger. She starts to pull her hand away, but he shakes his head and comes closer. He pulls a chair close to the bed and sits, leaning forward to watch her.

“Please,” he says, voice husky with desire, “Don’t stop on my account.”

She smirks at him. Her fingers delve deeply once again as she lifts her camisole to cup her breast. She starts to pant and gyrate as she nears completion, her lashes fluttering. Suddenly she feels his rough hands cover hers, massaging her breasts. And then his mouth joins her other hand, and she cries out. His head is between her thighs, and he runs his tongue over her clit. She comes almost instantly, his name a scream on her lips. 

After, she takes her time undressing him, pausing to trace the puckered line of a old knife wound with her fingers or kiss the shiny white scar of a blaster burn. They are both breathing hard when she finishes, and he pulls away her camisole, tossing it aside. Jyn smiles and tugs him into the fresher, where they stand chest to chest in the pouring water. She rises to her toes so that she can perch her chin on his shoulder and wrap her arms around his neck. He bends so he can tuck his head against hers and circle her waist with his forearms. 

His has such strong arms, she thinks, closing her eyes as the water runs over their bodies. They are lean arms, corded with muscle and covered in scars. And she never wants to be held like this by anyone else, Jyn thinks. He is rubbing circles into her lower back now, and Jyn pulls back to meet his eyes. She draws him into a kiss, a long and drawn out kiss where they savour each other. She tugs on his lips with her teeth, tangles her tongue with his, and sighs at the scratch of his beard on her cheek as he tilts his face to deepen their kiss.   

They take their time making love in the fresher, learning and relearning how to pull cries of pleasure from each other. They find their rhythm and revel it it; he likes to start slow, and she likes to end it rough. 

And when they finally find completion with each other, they stay wrapped in each other’s arms, clutching desperately. 

Jyn is terrified of everything spiralling out of control, but it’s still worth it. And Cassian is there, steady as a rock even as she rushes like a river.  

It’s worth it when he pulls back slightly to let her slide down his body.

It’s worth it when he kisses her nose and chuckles at her glare.

It’s worth it when they tumble into bed, exhausted yet knowing that he’ll be run ragged in the morning with missions, and she’ll face danger with the haggard determination of a foot soldier. And there will be nights when he'll lie awake waiting, not sure if she'll come back alive, and there will be mornings when she sees him bruised and battered and broken. But they’ll face it all together, as one.

So, it’s worth it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's done! Hope you liked it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit my nerdiness on [Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rogues-and-rebels)


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